I Don't Know You Anymore
by Ratty
Summary: YamchaBulmaVegeta: Yamcha wants to win back Bulma. But in visiting his old girlfriend, he's about to realise that the woman he loves has changed irrevocably, and there's absolutely nothing he can do about it.


**Author's Note: **Following my note a couple of days ago, about discontinuing (to the most part) writing fanfiction, I felt it important that I posted the stories I had finished. This story was written about two years ago, but I wasn't sure I liked it enough to post it. That having been said, I have decided to post it anyway, in order to show my progression as a writer (All Bets Off was written about a year after this story) and also to make something of the story I have written. I hope you enjoy it!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragonball Z or its characters to any extent. Otherwise I would be rich. I am not. I also don't own the song 'I don't know you anymore'. That is by Savage Garden. Otherwise I would be rich.

* * *

**I Don't Know You Anymore**

It hadn't been a bad break-up. Not like he had expected. Even after all the years of lies and deceits, they'd both had their fair share; it had been on good terms. They'd both been thankful for that.

Yamcha had never thought they'd break up. But then again, they were going absolutely nowhere. So may be he had expected it, somewhere in the depths of his imagination.

He couldn't account for Bulma though.

Bulma was, for lack of a better word, needy. Emotionally needy. Maybe he should have seen it coming.

_I would like to visit you for a while_

_Get away and out of this city_

Maybe I shouldn't have called but someone had to be the first to break 

The sun shone a rather bright yellow, too bright for Yamcha's liking. It was hot too, beating down against his tanned skin like a menace. Perhaps a warning; wasn't yellow the colour for warning?

Stepping out of the heat into the shadows of the colossal house known internationally as Capsule Corporation, Yamcha was sure he heard a gasp. From Mrs Briefs that was. It was somewhat odd, because Mrs Briefs never gasped. She usually sang, danced or something in between. She was the merry (possibly ditzy) one of the group.

'We haven't seen you in ages Yamcha, how long has it been, six months?' Mrs Briefs offered tea and sweet cakes. She settled them down on the dining room table.

'You must be after Bulma,' she smiled nervously. Strange.

'I am, actually, I suppose she pottering around in her lab like always.' Yamcha hadn't sat down yet. He couldn't bring himself to. The house felt alien. Was it colder than he remembered?

'In fact, she rarely spends any time in her lab anymore,' this came as a surprise, 'I think she was taking a shower. I'll go find her.'

'No hurry,' Yamcha said with a smile. Mrs Briefs nodded curtly. She disappeared up the stairs.

Silence descended through the living room. Photos twinkled invitingly. There was something different about them.

Yamcha strolled over to the mantelpiece. They _were_ different, oddly different. Something wasn't right with the pictures.

Something very wrong was going on…

_We can go sit on your back porch_

_Relax_

_Talk about anything_

_It don't matter_

I'll be courageous if you can pretend that you've forgiven me 

The photos weren't the ones he'd remembered. He remembered pictures of the gang, when Goku was a kid. He remembered pictures of them together, arms thrown around each other's shoulders, wide smiles.

At first he thought she had taken them down because of heartache. Had it hurt to see them happy? But the pictures spoke otherwise. They spoke volumes of another story. There had never been a photo of Vegeta on that mantelpiece.

_Because I don't know you anymore_

_I don't recognise this place_

_The picture frames have changed and so has your name_

_We don't talk much anymore_

_We keep running from the pain_

_But what I wouldn't give to see your face again_

He was grumpy as usual, scowl plastered across that alien face. She was smiling, arms thrown around his neck. She looked ready to kiss him.

Someone cleared their throat. Yamcha jumped.

'That was before everything happened. Only photo he ever let her take. Even then, he scowls.' Dr. Briefs shrugged and turned around, towards the kitchen. He grabbed one of the cakes on the table. And a cup of tea. Then he left, exiting through a side door and into the yard.

Yamcha turned around. The room seemed to shrink. Was he superimposed on a foreign landscape? No wonder this felt alien; something alien had happened here. Something that involved a grumpy prince.

Something that involved his ex-girlfriend.

_Springtime in the city_

_Always such relief from the winter freeze_

_The snow was more lonely than cold if you know what I mean_

A shout resounded through the house. It was Bulma's voice. She sounded agitated.

'Mom, has any laundry been done yet?'

'Not since yesterday, dear.'

'Dammit!!'

Yamcha glanced towards the staircase. Mrs Briefs was descending from it. She smiled in his direction.

'Bulma will be down in a moment. She's trying to find something to wear.' That wasn't unfamiliar; Bulma was always concerned about her appearance. So why did he feel there was something amiss about that statement?

Galloping racketed down the stairs. Then 'ouch', followed by 'stop kicking me' and finally she appeared.

She swallowed hard, 'Hey Yamcha, when Mom said I had a guest I didn't expect you. No offence, of course.' She grinned sheepishly.

Yamcha knew he had stepped into the wrong house right then. The woman in front of him wasn't Bulma. The lady watching timidly from the kitchen wasn't Mrs Briefs. And the photo in the living room wasn't of an alien prince and his ex-girlfriend.

Nope.

Not at all possible.

Those faded pink overalls were not housing an expectant stomach.

This was definitely the wrong house.

Yamcha cleared his throat, "Excuse me, I gotta go, things to do, appointments to keep.'

'Yamcha!' He wasn't turning around, not this time.

'Please.' He turned around. Familiar cerulean eyes pleaded.

This was the right house.

Just something in it was wrong…

_Everyone's got an agenda _

_Don't stop keep that chin up you'll be alright_

_Can you believe what a year it's been_

_Are you still the same?_

She wasn't the same. How could she be the same? He had expected her to be different, but not this different. She was supposed to be recognisable.

'Yamcha,' those pleading eyes still remained, 'I'm sorry, but you couldn't expect me to just sit back and wallow for the rest of my life.'

She was tying to justify it. Like it was a simple dismissible issue. Was he the only one who saw the mistakes? Of course, he didn't expect her to wallow for the rest of her life, but then again, six months wasn't her whole life. She'd jumped on the next bandwagon the moment he'd walked out the door, if her girth was any indication.

She watched the emotions flicker across his face. Did she expect an answer? An apology? She was sadly mistaken if that was the case.

'How could you do this?' he whispered. She glanced up, adjusting to the height difference. Vegeta was shorter than Yamcha. She was used to looking at the same eye level as her own. Had matters changed so quickly?

'Things…just…happened,' she muttered. She expected him to understand.

'How can things just happen?' he exclaimed, 'How can six months change everything, Bulma? That man! He murdered half your friends including me! He came here to kill us all! How can you just dismiss that? HOW!'

She stepped back, abruptly, disappointed.

'I didn't dismiss it, Yamcha,' she said quietly.

'Then explain th…tha…that child!' he pointed a trembling finger at her stomach. Bulma glanced down momentarily and then back at him.

'What do you expect me to say? That I wanted all this to happen. That I spent my entire life plotting against my friends. That this was some sick twisted way of getting back at you. Do you want me to claim you the victim? Because if that's what you want, then you're not going to get. That's not what happened.' Her voice was steady. She was prepared for this on slaughter. She had known it was coming.

He was unsteady though. His voice quivered as he spoke, 'Then tell me what happened…so I can understand what possessed you to do such a thing.'

'Sit.' She pointed at a chair at the kitchen table. He sat. And prepared himself for whatever crazy story she had to tell.

Has your opinion changed? 

'Remember the incident when Vegeta blew up the GR?' he nodded, 'Well, after Dad fixed him up, I was in his room, just about to walk out, when he moaned something in his sleep. I thought he was having a nightmare, so I sat down at the desk and ended up falling asleep.' She began to pace backwards and forwards, past him.

'Anyway, when I woke up Vegeta had disappeared. I found out he was in the GR, I through a mental, he yelled, I yelled, I went off and cried. That was the end of that.'

'A few days later, the day after we broke up, I was sitting in the living room watching some movie and Vegeta came in. Silently, he sat down next to me. I thought it was really strange but I ignored him.' she sighed, but a small smile had spread across her face, 'We were sitting there, and we must of dozed off 'cause the next thing I remember is waking up, with my head on his lap.'

She glanced at him, hoping for some sort of positive reaction. His face was completely blank. She sighed.

'Neither of us mentioned it, dunno if he even knew it had happened but a week or so after that I was in the kitchen and he walked in, grabbed me, spun me and kissed me. That was what began it all.' She finished. But that wasn't enough.

'And that was it?' Yamcha asked, 'You didn't stop to consider the consequences at any stage? For one minute, you didn't think about what you were doing, who it was with?' He was angry now.

'Of course, I'm not an idiot-'

'Matters would indicate otherwise.'

Ouch.

Tears had formed in her eyes, 'That was harsh, Yamcha, and I don't think I deserved that.'

Maybe later he would regret his words, 'you're so impulsive, and now you're paying for it. I thought you'd finally learnt, but obviously I was wrong.'

The tears began to trickle, 'This was never meant to happen!' she stomped her foot, 'don't you understand, I never meant for it to happen! Do you really think I would have inflicted this much heartache on myself?'

Yamcha's eyes widen, 'Heartache?' he asked, confused.

'Yes, heartache!' She screeched, 'He left, you idiot! He left me here! Left me knocked up! You're so caught up in your own feelings! Sometimes you're just so blind!' The waterfall began. He had pushed the buttons.

'That bastard,' he muttered under his breath. Bulma had her head in her hands. She didn't need this, not now. Not from both of them. It was like history repeating. She had never wanted this. Never.

A whisper, 'Bulma, I'm sorry, I lost my temper.'

'It doesn't help though, does it? All the apologises in the world, don't help, do they? They don't stop the one remaining factor.'

_Because I don't know you anymore_

_I don't recognise this place_

_The picture frames have changed and so has your name_

_We don't talk much anymore_

_We keep running from the pain_

_But what I wouldn't give to see your face again_

'Look, Bulma, if I had known he had left…' it was hopeless. What was there to say to make it up?

I know I let you down 

'It doesn't matter,' she sobbed, 'It doesn't matter anymore.'

Again and again 

'It's just…its like I don't know you anymore…'

I know I never really treated you right 

She was crumbling, and he couldn't help her anymore. She was right, it didn't matter. No matter what he did, it wouldn't be enough. Only one man could solve her problems.

I've paid the price 

And he wasn't here to bother…

I'm still paying for it every day 

She looked up, her face tear-streaked, 'You know, what the really stupid part is?' he shook his head. She laughed bitterly, 'you know what…I love him. I still love him.'

'I used to say, when he first came,' she swallowed, 'that Earth had been marked by an incredible man. I wasn't wrong was I,' she shook her head, 'he marked me just as bad.'

'I'm sorry, Bulma, for all the things he did, and I'm sorry I was so insensitive. Maybe I shouldn't have come today. At least, without calling.'

'Don't worry about,' she smiled through her teary eyes, 'I prefer to have told you know, separate from the others, and anyhow, it would have been cowardly to tell you over the phone.'

'Never the coward, Bulma.'

_So maybe I shouldn't have called_

_Was it too soon to tell?_

_Oh what the hell_

_It doesn't really matter_

_How do you redefine something that never really had a name?_

Has your opinion changed? 

'Never the coward,' she echoed.

'I should go, now that I've caused all the havoc for the day,' he smiled gingerly.

'Don't be a stranger, now, you hear,' she grinned back, 'At least, someone knows beside my parents now. I'm glad its out in the open.'

He nodded, 'I won't tell the others.'

She smiled, 'I'd appreciate it. I'd prefer to tell them, the day the androids come, so they don't take it as hard.'

'Sure, I'll see ya 'round.'

'See ya.'

_Because I don't know you anymore_

_I don't recognise this place_

_The picture frames have changed and so has your name_

_We don't talk much anymore_

_We keep running from the pain_

_But what I wouldn't give to see your face again_

It was with a heavy heart, but a full mind, that Yamcha climbed into his capsule car. What a strange day it had been. He had just started the engine, when he remembered a conversation a year or so earlier.

'_Hope you have a healthy baby, Bulma.'_

'_Maybe the boy from the future…'_

Oh my god!

Had he been blinded so long? Had he wished for so many sleepless nights that she still loved him? The boy with the facial features so familiar. The boy with the Capsule Corp. jacket. Matters made sense finally.

He tried ever so hard to accept what had been predicted. That boy was the child Bulma carried inside of her. That boy was his ultimate demise, the doom in their relationship. He had told Goku, the story was already known. That boy and the relationship that had created him, that had changed Bulma.

He didn't know her anymore.

_I see your face_

_I see your face_

* * *

Ada: You write much better when you're writing about me

Ratty: That's cause I love you so much Ada, and because I created you, and because I put so much time into you

Ada: Well, I'm worth it.

Ratty: A lot of people would think you're a bitch, you know

Ada: I am a bitch. I never said I wasn't a bitch. I like being a bitch

Ratty: Besides I never would have created you if not for stories like this one.

Ada: Right, so I should be grateful. Get with the program

Ratty: Sorry, I forgot, you don't know the meaning of the word 'grateful'

Ada: Okay, okay, people don't care. Goodbye. (disappears)

Ratty: Toodles, peeps. Hope you enjoyed the story


End file.
